Connecticut western news., 1887-12-07

his winery; and. in fact, making hot love to her, which state of things con- tinued until the occurrence of the scene described above.
 General Marriott saw it all plainly enough, but being fond of Jill, he was we'll pleased at the prospect of having her for his future daughter-in-law.
 It was Jill, only Jill, who saw any hazard in the engagement, although it seemed to her that her whole happiness depend ed upon it. It was for that very reason she wished to win, not the rash, inn petuous, boyish love Jack could give her at present, but the love of his future manhood, of his life. She was so we'll aware of all the advant tageshe possessed; his social position which would intro duce him into the best society; his physical beauty, his winning grace, his ready wit, which would insure him friends and admirers whcresoever he might be; was it likely that he would always remain true to the everyday English gir! with no especial giftsf Yes, it was likely, Jill thought because she knew something of his character, but It was not certain, for he was un- tried. Let hlm be tried, and then if he proved faithful, he should be rewarded by love as deep as the fathomless sea, as strong as the elements themselves, and faithful unto death. Little did Jack know as he left the rcctory gates, that such gift was his already, whether he ever came back worthy to claim it or not.
 And so two years passed away while Jack was in India. They did not write to each other except on birthdays and special occasions, because Jill had for bidden correspondence as likely to make him feel less free. From General Mar riott, she heard of him every other week, and he seemed to be we'll and popular and happy.
 Of young curatc, who came to tho parish, and after doing his utmost to win Jilrs love, left the place in anger and despair, it is needless to write here: his pride was, after all, more wounded by the utter coldness of her manner than his heart smitten by it.
 At the end of two years the old gen. eral, who had been long while a widower, died, and Jill learned no more now of Jacks welfare, for the hall was entirely closed. At that time, too, the second Afghan war broke out, and his regiment was sent to the front.
 Those were anxious days for her, when she daily waited at the rectory gate to meet the old postman who brought the morning paper, and with trembling hands would open it to see if any battle had been fought and what names among the killed or wounded or sick.
 At last one evening her brother came back from neighboring town with the news of the defeat of Malwand; he knew no particulars, and Jill had to wait till the next day in sickening anxiety. She spent the night sleeplessly, but not tear fully, for, if her darling died soldiers death, why she, soldiers sweetheart, must be brave, too-if only she could be sure she was his sweetheart still! Surely the war was a special occasion which would have warranted his writing to her. Yet never a line from him had come.
 The next morning, when the postman put tho paper in her hand, she leaned against an old chestnut tree in the gar den and opened it and read-frst, the names of those killed in battle. Thank God, thank God, he was not among them! Then, the seriously wounded. An! there it was, one of the very first Lieutenant John Marriott, of the Royal Engineers! He was suffering agonies in a camp hospital-perhaps dying, or per haps dead! Oh! why had she not gone out at the beginning of the war, with other ladies as nurse2 Then she might have been with him now, to win him back to life again with her care and tenderness, or to comfort him until the end.
 Wish was vain as it was earnestl for she was in her far away English home and must hurry into the schoolroom to supcrintend the lessons of her young sis ter, and into the garden to sec about having the Autumn fruits picked for jam making; and to dozen other small duties, which make up the sum total of a woman's daily life.
 Two days afterward there came great comfort for her in an Indian letter from Jack, written some weeks before the Maiwand disaster, and brimful of good spirits and hope, and these words were at the end of it:
 eff get through this campaign all right and come home again safe and sound, will my time of probation be over then ? Tell me, my darling, for ind eed, indeed, am getting weary of ftp
 Aye, the time of probation was over, but would he ever know it2
 After that, Jill heard nothing of him for over six months, and, although she had not seen any mention of his death in the papers, hope, growing less and less, had almost left her. In spite of her good courage, it was with white face and weary step that she went about her duties; she, who was won't to